Courting Roy
by Kay the Cricketed
Summary: [EdxRoy, crack!fic, completely OOC] Flowers and candy, sonnets and little gifts left on his desk… could it be that Roy Mustang was being courted? Oh god. The travesty.


_Courting Roy_

By Kay

Disclaimer: I own FMA as much as I own the country of Saudia Arabia. Which is not at all.

Author's Notes: I can't believe I wrote this. Why is it whenever I write FMA it turns out to be angsty!Roy ficcage or absolute crack? O.o

I am SO sorry for this. But thank you everyone who reads, you are amazing and patient and you own my soul. :D

* * *

_Chapter One: The first sign of the end of the world appears_

* * *

They came out of nowhere on a suspiciously ordinary Tuesday, flaunting gloriously red petals and babies breath.

No one could really figure out where they came from. Even Hawkeye, who was usually first to appear in the mornings and was still throwing unreadable glances over at the elaborate display on Roy Mustang's desk, didn't come in time to catch the culprit. They just appeared out of the mists of Central like a phantom-- well, that or Bonnie's Best Bouquets from three blocks over, if the white signature tag on the bottom of the crystal vase was to be believed-- while throwing the entire office into the utmost confusion.

Love letters, they'd seen. Phone calls, secretaries flirting, even once (though Roy to this day forbid them to speak of it) a singing telegram involving a very scantily clad woman who looked very cold in the middle of February. But _this,_ this was…

"You know, usually it's the guys that give _girls_ flowers," Havoc muttered doubtfully, eyeing the beautiful long-stemmed roses still perched innocently on Colonel Roy Mustang's desk surface. Every so often, a pearly drop of dew would drop into the vase from the luxurious petals, as if mocking the imperfection of everything else in the room. It was sort of working. The battered stapler three inches away, at the very least, was looking a little miffed.

"The Colonel has another fan," Breda agreed glumly. "I never get roses."

"What would you _do_ with roses?"

"Well, I haven't gotten any, so how the heck would I know?"

"There's a card," Fury said nervously, flushing a bit when they both turned to him with incredulous faces. "I-I only saw it because I had to return some envelopes to his desk," the shorter man stammered, waving his hands awkwardly. "But it's just one of those little white cards they stick out of the vase, you know, with things like 'Forget Me Not' and 'Happy Birthday,' or maybe--"

"'Can I Get Into Your Pants?'"

"'Please Get Into _Mine_,'" Breda corrected. Havoc snorted in laughter so hard that his cigarette almost fell out of his mouth.

Fury was a dull pink. "I don't think they make cards for that," he said, embarrassed and not doing well at hiding it in the least. "It's in an envelope, anyway, so I couldn't read it."

"It's probably the usual drivel," Havoc said, blowing a soft trail of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. He watched Hawkeye's bowed golden head the entire time as she read over reports, carefully trying to be subtle about it. Last time he'd been caught smoking in the office, he'd spent the rest of the day trying to pry bullets out of his boot soles. "You know, asking him out on a date, telling him what a nice lookin' guy he is in a uniform--"

"It's probably another one of your girlfriends," Breda said, smirking and pounding Havoc on the back in amusement. "Who's the one for the week? Maria, the paper-pusher down on the third floor."

Havoc sat up in alarm, paling. "I'll kill him. I _like_ Maria."

"You always like them," Fury said mildly, but had the grace to look sympathetic. "She's only lasted two days, too. I'm sorry."

"You really should keep a record," Breda muttered, mouth twitching into a grin, but he too at least sounded contrite. "What's this? The fifty-eighth?"

"I've stopped counting."

"I feel your pain. At least you have that many women to lose, though."

"At this rate, he'll start stealing them before I've even _met_ them."

From the other side of the desks, Hawkeye clicked her gun. The result was immediate-- Havoc coughed and quickly picked up a few papers, shuffling them in an attempt to look busy, whereas Breda randomly stapled at least eight forms together (none of which belonged together, and their secretary would later wonder what requests for heavier artillery for the headquarters had to do with yellow uniforms for the mailroom workers). Fury, who was startled the most at the sound, promptly dropped all the efficient work he'd previously been doing diligently and had to drop to his knees to gather it back up again.

After they'd suitably fooled Hawkeye (or at least after she'd given up on them and returned to filling out forms), Havoc and Breda pushed their heads together again. Fury was trying to reach an elusive file that managed to escape under a nearby desk-- and was failing miserably. Short arms.

"You think he'd notice if we opened it?"

"It's probably sealed shut," Breda grumbled, throwing another suspicious look at the flowers. They glittered back at him in the glorious daylight spilling over their blossoms, innocent and chaste. He moved his chair back an inch or two. "It's probably fan girl drivel. We don't want to read that kind of stuff, anyway."

"Oh, _Colonel Mustang_," Havoc squeaked in a high-pitched voice, clasping his hands together, "I think you're _marvelous_. You're the man of my dreams. Your handsome haircut, your wickedly dashing smile, the way you fill out those pants…"

"Been watchin' them, Havoc?"

"That's what all the girls tell _me_ in their love letters."

"Yeah, right."

"Could you push the cream folder under your desk my way with your toes, please?" Fury asked, strained, from the floor, just in time to stop Havoc from giving Breda a nasty concussion with a rather heavy and blunt-ended stapling device. Havoc obliged, sliding it over with his boot carefully. "Thank you."

At that moment, further preventing any concussions and completely eliminating the hope of any paperwork getting done (even from Fury, who sneezed a few times and then pulled himself back up to watch with wide eyes), the door to the office opened and Roy Mustang walked in with all his unpunctual glory.

Hawkeye's safety clicked off.

Roy had been sensing this, of course, and promptly offered an excuse involving a board meeting involving an irate General and slippery tile floors all around Central Headquarters. It didn't entirely mollify Hawkeye, who firmly pushed him towards a door with, "You have work to do, sir. Please make up for the past three hours by finishing the Baldworth reports by noon."

"But I--"

"_Sir_, it needs your attention _immediately_."

But Roy's attention was already diverted. "Ah," he said, in that knowing, smug sort of way that made half of the officers at Central want to either swoon, brutishly club something, or run crying to the bathroom, all depending on what happened last time they heard it. "These are new," he added, gently touching the rose petals with a gloved hand. They glistened appropriately, equally gleeful and smug, and attractive in the way that mostly made people want to stomp on them.

It was a match made in heaven.

Havoc and Breda leaned forward eagerly, craning their necks to watch. Fury was bright red-- his own particular reaction to hearing _that_ sound from the Colonel. "Ten bucks says it's Maria," Breda said, and Havoc smacked him over the head. Hard.

"You're on," Fury said, rather bravely he thought. Havoc aimed for his head, too, but was distracted by a rather odd, strangled sound from across the room.

Roy was staring at the card. Next to him, Hawkeye looked surprised and suddenly fiercely curious at the noise, which had been as un-Colonel like as possible. In fact, none of the staff had ever seen this particular brand of stunned, wide-eyed and almost… pink… expression on Roy Mustang's normally composed face.

"I think he's _blushing_," Havoc said in horror. "Oh God, it _is_ Maria. She always was a forward girl."

"I don't think anything like that would phase the Colonel," Fury said absently, and adjusted his glasses, thoughtful.

"Lucky bastard," Breda sighed wistfully.

Meanwhile, Roy fumbled with the card, looking around quickly and scowling when he realized all eyes were on him. "What are you staring at? Get back to work!" he snapped, raising a glove in warning. Havoc, Breda, and Fury suddenly found things to do, and even Hawkeye reluctantly returned to her desk, eyeing the card still clutched in Roy's hand suspiciously.

When he thought it somewhat safe, Havoc peered over the top of the papers he was looking at.

Roy was sitting down at his desk now, but sure as hell wasn't getting any work done. Instead, staring at the floors with an almost bemused frown, the man was tapping the card on his desk.

"He usually burns it by now," Breda whispered. "This is new."

_"Shhhh._ Shut up, I'm trying to _spy_."

"You're trying to look stupid. And succeeding."

Roy made as if to tuck the card in his pocket; changed his mind, scowled a little darker, and crumpled it into a little ball and dropped it in the ashtray that only ever saw love letters and not-so-important paperwork. Havoc's heart dropped in disappointment as he raised his glove and snapped, sending the piece of paper into a whirling, lazy flame, and it really wasn't fair that all his curiosity was for nothing--

"Sir, General Haruko wants to speak to you," Hawkeye said from across the room, her hand carefully clamped over the phone.

Roy muttered something unpleasant under his breath and stood. "We really need to discuss a way to get around these things," he growled to Hawkeye, who raised an eyebrow as he stalked to the other side of the office.

Havoc saw his plummeting hopes raise again like a phoenix, and took the golden opportunity presented to him.

"Distract him if it finishes early," he hissed to Breda, who blinked dumbly at him, and quickly made his way to the Colonel's desk.

_'I just need to use his stapler,'_ he told himself as he went, trying to act casual and eyeing Roy's back. He was almost sweating. _'Just… getting a stapler. And that piece of paper.'_

The operation took a total of five seconds. Slide over to Roy's desk, bat at the licking flames with his uniform (which Havoc wore rolled up on one arm for the rest of the day, garnering some very odd looks; he considered it a small price to pay for the information procured, of course), and stuff the ash-edged remains of the card down his pants. Because goddamn it, as humiliating and uncomfortable as that way-- a _hot_ card that had been on fire not a second ago, ugh-- uniforms had no pockets and Havoc panicked at the last moment.

Loop around back to his desk (though he forgot the stapler, Roy hadn't even turned around once and Hawkeye was holding a gun on him to make sure the conversation wasn't "prematurely cut due to phone line failure" in the meantime), and Havoc slumped back down with a wince. He was gonna feel that burn in the morning.

"I can't believe it," Breda said, amazed. "You're insane."

"Water break at the cooler in five minutes," Havoc hissed through gritted teeth, and just barely managed to grin.

* * *

**At the water cooler:**

* * *

"Um," Breda said.

"Oh," Fury squeaked, a bright pink.

Havoc smoothed out the slightly charred bit of card automatically, his mouth drier than usual. He really wanted a cigarette. "Whoa. This is really… uh…"

"That's actually romantic," Farman commented from behind them, peering over Havoc's shoulder. The blonde man made a high-pitched sound that had no business sending Breda into laughter, and went to crumple the note automatically.

"What! No! We didn't do anything, it's nothing!"

"That's Freidrich Halm, I think" Farman continued, ignoring him in favor of reaching for the card and unfolding it again. He squinted (more than usual) at the words. "Where did you get this? Is this from Maria, Havoc?"

Breda started laughing again. "No, it was for the Colonel," Havoc answered sourly. "Someone sent flowers today. And _that_," he added, prodding it accusingly. "What a weird lady."

"Um, I don't think…" Fury stammered weakly.

"It sounds kinda dodgy," Havoc muttered, "to be a lady. Or a real lady, anyway."

"As opposed to a fake lady? What? I'm confused."

"Girls really like this sort of thing, I think. Poetry, I mean." Farman pursed his lips. "For the Colonel? Well, it certainly fits him. And this person obviously knows him."

"What? Why!"

Farman lifted the paper. "Have you _read_ this all the way through?"

"… good point."

Breda wiped tears from his eyes and took the card. "I wonder what the first half of it said," he said hoarsely, still grinning widely. "We might have gotten a clue as to who's so enamored with the Colonel to be writing this kind of shit."

Havoc studied the remains of the card again. The first half had been burned completely off, and black soot marks marred the rest of it, but what was left was mysterious enough:

It read as followed (in a very disturbing manner):

… _know who I am yet and it's going to stay that way. If you're interested, please leave the flowers on your desk until Thursday. I know this is unexpected, but for every day that passes, I realize sometimes the leaps you take blind are the ones that let you land perfectly. At the risk of scaring you off with even more blithering, lovey-dovey mush and crap, please read this thing: _

With you are my thoughts,  
and they flutter around you.  
They say they are homesick;  
they will suffer being here no more.  
With you are my thoughts  
and they do not wish to leave;  
they say that in all the world, it is  
the most beautiful place.  
They say that you hold them inextricably,  
your magic keeping them captive;  
they have, by your glances,  
burned up their wings.

Don't keep me waiting, Colonel. I look forward to your answer.

- Your Admirer

P.S. Every word I said about your eyes was to lure you in, but the stuff about your ass is true.

On second thought, Havoc really didn't want to read the first part of the note.

"Tomorrow is going to be _very_ interesting," Breda said.

* * *

_End_

Next chapter: The boys argue over the suspects and watch Roy's desk to see if the roses are dumped or kept. Ed struggles over writing a new romantic note and is utterly obvious, as Kay is definitely not hiding it and, to be honest, neither is he. Roy panics. The world is good.


End file.
